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Updated: June 26, 2025
"I beg your pardon?" he said. "So you ought to," replied the earl. George swallowed once or twice to relieve a curious dryness of the mouth. "Are you Lord Marshmoreton?" "I am." "Good Lord!" "You seem surprised." "It's nothing!" muttered George. "At least, you I mean to say . . . It's only that there's a curious resemblance between you and one of your gardeners at the castle.
It would have been impossible to deny that Lord Marshmoreton showed emotion. His mouth opened, and he clutched the tablecloth. But just what the emotion was George was unable to say till, with a sigh that seemed to come from his innermost being, the other exclaimed "Thank Heaven!" George was surprised. "You're glad?" "Of course I'm glad!" "It's a pity they didn't know how you were going to feel.
"That's just what I think I am." "I wish I could get you to see my point of view." "I do see your point of view. But dimly. You see, my own takes up such a lot of the foreground." There was a pause. "Then I am afraid," said Lord Marshmoreton, "that we must leave matters as they stand." "Until they can be altered for the better." "We will say no more about it now." "Very well."
When I say 'I'm the Earl of Marshmoreton', I mean that I'm a poor spineless fool who's afraid to do the right thing because he daren't go in the teeth of the family." "I don't understand. What have your family got to do with it?" "They'd worry the life out of me. I wish you could meet my sister Caroline! That's what they've got to do with it.
"I have not stood at the stage-door for twenty-five years," said Lord Marshmoreton sadly. "Now, it's no use your pulling that Henry W. Methuselah stuff," said Billie affectionately. "You can't get away with it. Anyone can see you're just a kid. Can't they, George?" She indicated the blushing earl with a wave of the hand. "Isn't dadda the youngest thing that ever happened?"
The Lord Marshmoreton who made intermittent appearances in London, who lunched among bishops at the Athenaeum Club without exciting remark, was a correctly dressed gentleman whom no one would have suspected of covering his sturdy legs in anything but the finest cloth.
Some of it was capital . . ." "John!" "But deplorable, of course," added Lord Marshmoreton hastily. "Very deplorable." He endeavoured to regain his sister's esteem by a show of righteous indignation. "What do you mean by it, damn it? You're my only son. I have watched you grow from child to boy, from boy to man, with tender solicitude. I have wanted to be proud of you.
He removed his pipe from his mouth with a touch of embarrassment. "Yes, yes, to be sure!" There was an awkward silence. "You must see for yourself," said the earl, "how impossible it is." George shook his head. "I may be slow at grasping a thing, but I'm bound to say I can't see that." Lord Marshmoreton recalled some of the things his sister had told him to say.
Lord Marshmoreton was the most enthusiastic amateur gardener in a land of enthusiastic amateur gardeners. He lived for his garden. The love which other men expend on their nearest and dearest Lord Marshmoreton lavished on seeds, roses and loamy soil.
A kind-hearted girl, she had foreseen that Lord Marshmoreton might be glad of a change of subject at about this time. "Would you like me to help you tonight?" she asked brightly. "I thought I would ask if there was anything you wanted me to do." Lady Caroline snatched hurriedly at her aristocratic calm. She resented the interruption acutely, but her manner, when she spoke, was bland.
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